


Tokens

by summerartist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13517733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerartist/pseuds/summerartist
Summary: Luke discovers how to give Darth Vader gifts that Vader will come to cherish. Their bond strengthens in the process.





	Tokens

Luke will be the first to admit he was not great at gift giving. If he was honest it was mostly due to the fact that while growing up on a moisture farm he had little funds to spare and lack of time to put much thought into the act. He made trinkets for Aunt Beru or found interesting crystals and leftover machinery to give to friends. While unique, one could not say his gifts were coveted or exactly what the person desired.

 

As he grew older and found his place in the Rebel Alliance the idea of gift giving grew obscure. Booze and a night out with your mates was ideal. Though he formed new friendships the exchange of special objects was rare in closely-knit quarters. You just had enough room for your bunk and the essentials while you had to be ready to scramble with your gear at any moment. Knick knacks were left behind simply because there was no storage.

 

Luke grew to appreciate the little things around him. A view, an experience, and a shared moment were the items that he held onto. He had just enough room for his lightsaber and his clothes in the shared space with the other pilots. Han and Leia did not give him gifts unless one was counting the medal he had received with Han and Chewie.

 

They cooked special meals for each other now and then. Han let Luke use the items on his ship but as far as exchanges of property went it became a foreign concept to him over time.

 

Then something changed. He found a father, his last living relative he barely knew. It was taking time to come to grips with the concept and accept their violent encounter on Bespin. He had felt deep emotion within his father and though he hardly knew the man, he came by occasional glimpses of his experiences. Sometimes it would be a memory of some unseen place or simply staring down from a dark viewport.

 

He was feeling new sensations too. He felt a tightness and hollowness in his throat and the artificial touch sensors on both hands. He heard his breathing, felt his pain. He had to learn to block the feelings out with thick shields, but even as their connection was held at bay it cemented into place.

 

Vader did not sense the sharing of their experiences, at least not at first. His realization came on a particularly windy day on Tatooine before Luke had gone to rescue Han. Luke had his fingers spread loosely by his sides as he stood overlooking the familiar ranges of desert mountains. Something dark poked at the back of his mind inquisitively. It found him and stretched out until it spread through his fingertips and stayed there. Something or someone was feeling the wind through his fingers and pondering over the sensation.

 

 _Hello...father._ It was somehow easier to call him that in the recesses of his mind.

 

Vader did not react or respond. He continued to cling on to the strange sort of force symbiosis. Luke stood still, letting the man take his fill of the simple feeling. All the while he wondered what Vader could possibly desire through the connection. Was he perhaps hoping to turn Luke this way by manipulating his conscious mind?

 

Just as the thought occurred to him, Vader started to retreat. He quickly let go of his hands and forearms before he slipped back into a small space in his senses. Just like that, his awareness of his father’s presence faded away. With his friends in peril he had to remain focused, though it became increasingly difficult to remain so. Luke wasted little time in continuing about his business as if the incident was the last thing on his mind. 

 

Luke’s mission went on with a few hitches but he succeeded. He rescued Han and the rest of his friends while keeping them (mostly) intact. All the while, he thought of the contact with his father and what Vader hoped to gain from the exchange. Their moment of symbiosis had been purposeful. He could not shake the feeling that it was a significant step in some sort of direction. For good or ill it remained to be seen.

 

* * *

 

The secret Rebel base on Yavin 4 was to be long lasting despite the many Imperial outposts on the planet. Luke marveled at the life that flourished here, at the variety of flowers and trees and growing things. He took walks out into the wilderness by himself while fulfilling his Jedi training. He meditated and practiced his lightsaber forms.

 

All the while, he felt the dark presence seek him and reach for the memories just out of range. Luke kept himself busy but he could not deny that he was curious about that dark entity and the feeling of belonging that it provided. In return he felt it whispering for him, for exactly what it was unclear. It wanted something from him in an almost tangible kind of muddling need. He did not know how to placate it or shove it away, though he knew it would be cruel and unnatural to banish it completely.

 

The need grew as a background annoyance, like discovering that your nose itched or that something was jabbing you. An idea formed, inspired by the low buzzing of thoughts that brushed up against his. He was having trouble sleeping and for whatever reason he had the urge to try to help the being reaching out to him.

 

He opened the door and walked out onto the ruined stone terrace by the guard tower. The background roar of the falls filtered into hearing range. Luke took several steps and stood at the edge of the balcony area, gaze sweeping the forest below.

 

The deep greens and reddish browns flashed over his vision and he inhaled the fresh air. He reached for the dark connection and started transmitting flashes of what he felt. The crisp air expanded in his lungs and the moisture from the waterfall’s mist clung to him. He could feel the darkness probe at the sensations curiously and just a bit possessively. Then, the darkness shrank back as if it expected Luke to rebuff it. Luke held onto it for a moment until he felt it lightly slip away and go back to where it had come from. He gave a fond little smile before he let his gaze wander back to his surroundings and the stone structures beyond him. He stood there in the dim lighting thinking for quite some time.

 

Out on the Executor Vader received the tokens from his son. He had felt the air expand his lungs effortlessly and how he had felt the mist on his face as if he had never worn a mask. He held on to the gifts like a man who had been deprived of sustenance. He had thought that longing would never touch him again or if it did it would only serve to fuel his power in battle. This pure sort of melancholy did not transform into strength...perhaps that was why he found it interesting. It was rare to feel an emotion that could not be channeled through battle and chaos. This piece of his son’s existence stayed with him throughout the following days and all the way up until the final conflict.

 

* * *

 

 Their second to last gift was shared. As Luke obeyed his wishes and took his father’s mask off he felt their bond open. He instantly felt the tightness in his father’s throat as his pressurized mask was released. His gaze met his parent’s for the first time and he watched, mesmerized, as a tender expression appeared on Anakin’s face. His father’s armor was cold and slick beneath hands. His father felt the sensation and his anguish as Luke watched him slowly fade before his eyes. Their connection stayed as they spoke and he felt his father’s hold on their bond weakening. They spoke of Leia and the message Luke would relay to her.

 

As Luke promised he would not leave him, his father leaned back and exhaled. Luke felt every breath, felt the air leave his lips and the surrender to eternal rest. Their bond dropped away as his father departed. He hung his head and felt the loss swallow him.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he had just touched death itself, had sensed the slipping away. He was aware that death had not hurt, had been welcome to his father.

 

When he would have time to reflect he would ponder how he had found out that death was not a fearful experience at all. He had come close enough to see that this was not just a comforting placation people told each other. In a way his father had given him that last gift, clinging on until he had to leave. Luke had witnessed mortality itself and he had found that something in him was slightly eased at the painlessness.

 

* * *

 

 He had not intended for the black clothing to be a sign of mourning. He had worn it to shroud himself from Jabba and then to slip off into the night undetected on Endor. He easily blended into the shadows of the trees without it being his intention. Now he could not help but feel that it was a fitting tribute to his father.

 

Leia and Han had done their best to include him while giving him some space. Luke found himself sitting alone quite often these days with the ghost of Anakin by his side. Sometimes his father would be older or younger in appearance, with no factors triggering the change as if his force presence had no reservations about mixing past time lines. He would often just spend time with Luke as he helped their encampment pack up and head back to base.

 

Luke took comfort from his presence and though he no longer shared a deep bond with the shadow of his father he could still gain his wisdom. It took some convincing but Leia finally agreed to speak with Anakin to find out more about their past and their parents. So, Luke led her gently to their father and they sat before him. There was silence and Anakin shifted awkwardly for a moment. He smiled softly and told them both they looked so much like their mother. Their very last gift came from their father as he told them about the amazing woman who had loved them dearly.

 

These gifts had been wanted, had been received with awe and deepest regard. It was hard to believe that they were simply tokens of each other.

 

* * *

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired in part by my own abysmal skills at gift giving and by my brush with the grim reaper. Thankfully he's merciful, so alas, I write.


End file.
